Tiny hammer 40k
by alarochelle92
Summary: There are a number of tiny hammer fanfics figured I would try my hand at one. Shout out to Rogue Vector for the inspiration. Reviews and critiques welcome!
1. Rude Awakening

" _It is only through our purity that we can know that we are the servants of the God-Emperor. Those who lack purity have no basis to identify the mutant, the alien, or the traitor_."

-Red Scorpions Captain Domnik Mornay

 **Chapter 1**

My eyes creep slowly open and my head hurt something fierce. What time is it? I looked at the clock, hmm 2am. Something didn't feel right; like there were eyes on me from a number of directions. This is weird, I'm turning on the light, I thought.

I start reaching for the switch until I hear a gravelly rumble from the direction of my end table; "It will end badly for you if you touch that giant man." Uh huh, here goes nothing I'm turning the light on. Light illuminated me stark and fuzzy, that wasn't the only thing. A flurry of mini rocket propelled grenades pelt my face and arms. Shit they sting, and the blanket provides meager cover from the barrage.

The red and white checker pattern on my blanket was beginning to resemble Swiss cheese and it felt as if a thousand tiny hornets were stinging me. The material is beginning to smolder. "Okay, STOP IT!" I bellow. There is a shout and most of the gunfire dies away. Surrounding me is a ring of space marines in red, gold, and black livery. I mentally face palm, Red Scorpions, zealous space Nazis with a massive hard on for purity. Why couldn't it have been the Ultramarines?

A space marine in terminator plate adorned with eagles, purity seals and other motifs steps forward. His right hand clutches a massive double-barreled machine pistol, the left a crackling sword writhing in blue energy. I hear a faint hiss of air displacement as he pulls off his helmet. Eyes like flint, hard-edged and cold stare at me. Craggy cliffs of tan skin mark his brow and a long scar slides from his left temple all the way down to the bottom of his right cheek. The hair on his head is cut severely short.

When he spoke the gravelly voice I had heard earlier returns, "The only reason you are not dead is because you resemble a human giant man. One of my apothecaries will now take a sample of your blood, if you resist, by the God-Emperor retribution will be swift and hardier than before." He pauses, "What say you?"

I did the only thing that a guy could do when being threatened by a man that is no bigger than his thumb. I laugh.

* * *

Okay end of chapter one, thoughts, feelings, too wordy, too short? what? Feed me! I will continue this ASAP if there is enough interest.


	2. Talking Time

"Blessed is the mind too small for doubt."- Dawn of WarChapter 2

My laughter abruptly stops as an apothecary strides from the circle of mini warriors. The skin on both of my arms has welts from the bolt round impacts, and I gingerly lower one of them so the white-armored marine can take a sample. A small syringe from the narcethium on his gauntlet pricks one finger. I wince; the guy was not being remotely gentle. It didn't help that I was fidgeting; needles were never my thing.

He mutters to himself as he works, his bemusement plain. At last he was done, the needle came out I couldn't keep the grin from my face when he lets out an audible gasp and says, "No genetic deviancy whatsoever, no taint, he is… pure terran." The wonder in his voice is plain even through his helmet speakers. Average Joe one, space Nazis zero whew!

"So am I off the hook or are you going to blast me again?" Craggy brows' face has lines of disappointment all over it. He slowly lowers his big gun and says, "For now, I will confer with my senior officers later." So I am half in the clear, better than nothing. I have to ask, "What's your name and why are you here?" I figure I deserve some answers since he and his buddies did just shoot up my arms.

A flash of hesitation crosses his face and then passes, he answers, "My name is Commander Funos Rerro of the Red Scorpions 5th company, honored veteran of the Badab war, and bringer of the God-Emperor's light to a hostile galaxy. I have the privilege of commanding some of the finest and purest astartes in existence. Brother Apothecary Caxus sampled your blood; I trust his judgment but I do not trust you. That will have to be earned."

Maybe I'll eventually warm to this guy or maybe not. Rerro kept speaking, "As for the second question, there will be answers in future, I need to make contact with the other imperial forces in the area, the first step on the road to earning my trust will be to help me with this endeavor." I sigh, great now I have to prove myself to this guy! It's two in the morning for Pete's sake and he's the size of my thumb! Ah whatever it is not like I have work tomorrow anyway.

Commander Rerro's warriors start to file away. Assault squads leap away on jetpacks, tactical marines rappel over the side of my bed, Rerro simply teleports away to my nightstand and starts barking orders. I swear he sounds like a gravel crusher. It could be a lot worse I mean this is a war hammer fan's wet dream right? Grinning from ear to ear I wonder what he will say about my miniatures. The little terminator beckons for me, here we go.


	3. The Larger War

" _You're rich, You're flashy, You 'ave a proppa Orky stoutness about your belly! And you've got more big, shooty, and dead 'ard gear than any 2 other Orks put together. Da uvver orta make way for da Bad Moons_."

-Blazarg Gilttoof, Flash Git

 **Chapter 3**

Its not surprising the fusillade of gunfire didn't wake my parents. I live in the attic and it's pretty closed off from the rest of the house. Plus they snore. A steep set of steps leads down to the second floor. Commander Rerro's company were making their way down the stairs, minus a few tech marines who decide to stay behind with the two predator battle tanks and an assortment of dreadnoughts.

I catch Rerro while he is having a little impromptu meeting with his command squad. Hearing something about the living room, I lean in, my shadow makes them all look up. The commander narrows his eyes and says, "I was briefing my champions about the situation, and our forward elements are already voxing back that they have spotted imperial guard forces skirmishing with Orks. They appear to be massing in the living quarters of your domicile; from the descriptions given they are of the Bad Moonz clan."

His champions are restless and want to fight. Rerro sees me glancing at his marines and says, " Meet my closest advisors and confidants, brothers Trelis, Aquikus, Vasck, Ancient Tarax, you have already met Apothecary Caxus." The healer gives me a nod. Tarax steps forward and removes his white helm; he clutches his banner gingerly, like it's his child. Crisscrossing networks of scars mark his face, along with a sparse goatee, bleached silver like the rest of his hair. Three service studs shine dully from his forehead.

"Giant one, Apothecary Caxus assures me you are pure in body and blood, that is enough for me but you did not give us your name. What shall we call you boy? Will you fight with us?" I think it's nice that Rerro's subordinates seem more trusting than him. As for the Orks, why not? "Name's Jack and thanks for asking, let me get a few things, be right back." I hurry up the stairs and get my headlamp and metal baseball bat. My heart is pounding. On my return Ancient Tarax smiles making the scars on his face stretch and shift. Man that's nasty. "Lets go," I say. Little did I know I was about to see much worse.

The space marines' advance is a spearhead of tactical squads with assault squads on the flanks; there are a few heavy devastator squads in the mix. It isn't pitch dark tonight because it is a full moon. Against this backdrop a full-scale war is brewing between the sofas and love seats, the TV has already been pock marked by cannon and laser fire. Staccato booms of bolter fire start to spray from the Red Scorpions' line of advance, the flashes searing my retinas. Orks are milling about on and around the coffee table, trading shots with imperial guard sentinel walkers. Greenskin war bikes rip and roar around imperial guard units, slow imperial armor have yet to catch up to their infantry units.

As I watch in disbelief as a sentinel walker comes down, its leg shorn off and smoking from an Ork rokkit hit. The driver desperately pulls their body free of the crippled machine and starts to stumble away, firing a laspisol wildly. One member of a passing squad of Ork war bikes sees the limping pilot and veers alongside casually cutting the human in two with a swing of its massive cleaver. I go into sensory overload at this moment, watching the horror unfold in my living room and thinking this shit just got real very fast.

Amid the horrendous noise Major Tsalie Fleak of the 1st Januvian Lancers hurriedly orders another volley of lasgun fire to try to slow the Greenskin advance. Her power saber raises, her augmented voice easily cutting through the noise, "present" she shouts, "aim" hundreds of lasguns raise in unison. The power saber sweeps down, "fire!" The crackling snap is deafening and eye wateringly bright. As her vision clears, she takes in a breath; the volley has killed a few Orks but the majority is still coming, sporting burns on their crude, yellow armor.

"Pikes," she hollers, women with electro pikes move forward placing themselves between their lasgun-wielding brethren. Weapons are driven into the carpet, feet bracing firmly. Those with lasguns fall back behind them, turning around and fixing bayonets. There is a bone crunching impact as the Orks strike home with power claws, axes, and massive hammers. Immense handguns bang point blank pulverizing bodies and arms rip from sockets; others are crushed beneath armored boots.

Major Fleak manages to duck beneath a whistling cleaver and fires her bolt pistol point blank into the Ork's skull, evacuating its brainpan in a shower of gore. The guardswoman next to the major rams her pike into an Ork mouth, breaking several teeth. Several lasguns on full auto pepper the brute with enough bolts to turn its face into a sizzling mush. Someone panics and starts to run, Commissar Grizzwald beheads the coward with a flick of her chain blade and shouts, "No one flees this day, stand firm, and protect the colors with your lives, He is with us daughters of Venuvia!"

"Get me a vox operator, throne dammit!" Soon one appears and brandishes a vox horn. Colonel Bairo is waiting for her on the other line. Cupping her hands over the receiver, she shouts that her position is surrounded and slowly being overrun. Over the hiss of static what she hears chills her blood; hold at all costs. Hope still holds her however; the Angels of Death have been reported to the north, driving towards them. Over the screams, and gunfire the major hears another sound that lifts her spirits, the throaty roar of a Leman Russ main battle tank.

Far above the carnage, a lone figure stands silently on the old cabinet. A servo skull hovers by his shoulder clicking and whirring. Inquisitor Czevak Kremple of the Ordo Hereticus observes dispassionately, he has larger wars to fight. The game is already afoot and he will not lose. Pulling his black storm coat about him, he turns, doing a perfect about face. Inquisitorial storm troopers fall into lockstep behind him and into the belly of the waiting black Valkyrie gunship.

Okay end here, onwards and upwards, tell me what you think!


	4. Aftermath

" _A good soldier obeys without question. A good officer commands without doubt._ "

-Sergeant Lukas Bastonne, Cadian shock troopers

Chapter 4

The imperial guard units were holding… barely. Major Fleak's soldiers are being slaughtered and there is not much she can do. Orks were surrounding them on all sides, the remaining guardswomen pull into a tight square, with the colors at the center. All were dead on their feet with fatigue; the major's sword arm is broken, hanging limply at her side. Her Ogryn bodyguard, Brug is next to her, nursing a nasty gash on his head. Imperial Armour is but minutes away.

Space marines had hit the Orks on the flank, butchering hundreds in a wave of brutal violence. A marine in tactical dreadnaught armour surrounded by his champions has almost reached the Ork Warboss. Guardswomen redouble their efforts as the Ork pressure starts to lessen. Leman Russ tanks come into view, bolters coughing and cannons booming, a massive baneblade at their head.

Commander Rerro roars an oath as he plunges his power sword through an Ork gullet. Ripping it free, he depresses the trigger on his storm bolter, a barrage of bolts blasts yellow armored Orks to messy chunks. Ancient Tarax is to his right, banner held unflinchingly aloft rays of moonlight illuminating the Red Scorpions' standard. Brother Trelis swings his thunder hammer in mighty arcs reducing Orks to bloody smears. Aquikus is using his shield as a mobile battering ram, barging through the opposition. Vasck is a blur of motion, forever moving, never giving the clumsy Orks time to react as he maims and guts with his twin chainswords.

Apothecary Caxus stays close to Rerro, monitoring the vital information of the squad through his helmet feed, his narthecium already wet with blood. In front of them, a couple of Ork dreadnoughts, amidst a gaggle of Ork Nobz. The Ork Warboss is grunting in his piggish tongue, eyes bright with joy and anticipation of the coming fight. A ray of extremely bright light blinds the Warboss and his Nobz. Without warning, a metal cylinder comes down on the Ork leader crushing his legs and lower torso. Steel toe boots finish off the Nobz by flattening them into the carpet. Krak missiles turn the few dreadnoughts to flaming wreckage.

The few remaining Nobz drag the dead Warboss away, probably to loot his corpse. Ork resistance shatters with the death of their leader, the horde quickly melts away. The battle is over but the guard has suffered substantial casualties and several battle brothers were killed in the fighting. Amid a mound of corpses the last surviving guardswomen are cheering themselves hoarse. The colors did not fall. Major Fleak, nursing her broken arm, stands wearily with the remains of her company. Brug claps his massive hand on her unbroken shoulder and says with feeling, "Boss Lady wez won!" Fleak smiles weakly and just nods, leaning on his bulk for support.

The living room is in tatters. Our TV now has a couple good-size holes in it. Both sofas and the love seat are burnt. That's not the worst bit though, bodies, parts of bodies and gallons of blood are all over the place. I see apothecaries reverently extracting the progenoid glands from their fallen brothers. The guard is placing their dead in lines, collecting dog tags, and saying goodbye. I pick up the Ork corpses with a broom and dustpan the stink is unbelievable. Gonna need more than a swiffer-wet jet to get the stains out of this carpet I think darkly.

I turn the lights on in the living room; everyone freezes and then continues what they are doing. The guard is starting to set up their base of operations. They must have somewhere in the range of five thousand troops, cause they are busy bees. Already a mini motor pool is being set up, barracks, command post, the works. Commander Rerro is discussing something with his boys like usual. Space marines are checking the rest of the Ork bodies, once in awhile a bolter shot rings out. Alright I need some answers, playtime's over.


	5. Answers and more Questions

" _Heretics crave the cleansing fire of absolution. They need not fear, for we shall deliver it too them._ "

-Canoness Josmane of the Order of the Sacred Rose

Chapter 5

I sit down Indian style in front of Commander Rerro. Two others join the meeting. One is clad in black armor that seems to absorb the light. He bears a large hammer; at its apex is an eagle in gold. You can feel the faith just flowing from this guy. A grotesque skull covers his face, Rerro doesn't introduce him but I know what he is, and just as I'm about to say something a voice booms from skull face's helmet speakers.

"Your size doesn't intimidate me mortal for I have seen far worse things in the galaxy. I am Chaplain Trismetys the beating heart of this company's faith. While the purity of your body and blood is spoken for, your mind is an entirely different matter. Despite your… _assistance_ in defeating the Orks, Epistolary Issane will now probe your mind for taint of any kind. If even an iota is found, the Holy Emperor's wrath will be upon you." Yeah, message received **again** sheesh.

Standing next to him, hollow eyes judging and appraising in equal measure is a warrior in sky blue power armor. Surrounding his head is a crystal hood that fizzes with energy. Near his white tabard, a plasma pistol hangs ready for use. He clutches a staff tightly. There is an air of weary resignation about him; he knows that he will forever be a stranger amongst brothers.

I feel a voice in my head. _While the burden is heavy young one, I bear it with stoicism and pride. Now, be compliant and open your mind to me it will hurt less if you do._ The probe really isn't that bad he is trying to be gentle. I wince a couple of times but its over quickly. The epistolary speaks, "Brothers his thoughts are a jumble but his intentions are true. He is free of taint." Commander Rerro nods approvingly a ghost of a smile crossing his face.

The members of the command squad remove their helmets with the exception of the chaplain. Ancient Tarax beams at me. All make the sign of the Aquila and then refasten their helmets. Rerro begins to speak again, " My Company received a distress call from the world of Eiphus IV in the Segmentum Pacificus, our battle-barge, _Fist of the Emperor_ responded. The world was under threat from an Ork Waaagh and they had already ravaged several cities on the surface. When we translated in system the war had been going on for two weeks and imperial reinforcements had been sent to the planet."

"As we prepared to deploy a warp storm was conjured on the surface of the planet, it became completely obscured. Nothing could penetrate it. Several days later, a hole appeared in the storm and the entire company deployed immediately. The last bastion of imperial resistance on the planet was an Adepta Sororitas preceptory under the care of the Order of the Bloody Rose. The remains of the Eiphsian PDF and other guard regiments had retreated to this last location."

"As we deployed from our drop pods something happened. There was a great crack of displaced air and then we found ourselves in your Hab. We don't know why we are this size or what millennium it is. I need answers Jack." Hey he uses my name! It's a start. I wonder what other forces could be in and around my house. This could just be the beginning of my troubles. I can't even imagine what the parents are going to think about all this.

I ask the obvious question, "Why can't your librarian just give you all the answers himself?" Epistolary Issane answers, "the sheer size of you has drained me Jack. That was only from a simple probe of your surface thoughts and intentions, the absence of the warp has made me considerably weaker." I nod, okay understood.

Hmm, lets see how they react, "Well guys it's the year 2018, so that would be what, the second millennium? I can't tell you anything about your size sorry." All of the color drains from his face. "By the throne," he breathes. His champions gasp and Ancient Tarax mutters to himself. Commander Rerro's face becomes that stony, implacable mask again. "This changes nothing brothers, our mission is clear, hunt down the remaining Orks and locate other imperial forces. Disseminate this information among our brethren. Jack you can be my liaison between the guard and myself." He sniffs, "I do not think much of them."

The space marines begin to ferry the rest of their armor and supplies down with Thunderhawk gun ships. I guess I have to go tell the guard what's what. Rerro's a bit of a prick but what did I expect, that he would change now that he's smaller?

Major Fleak walks alongside Brug, her arm in a sling. The gash on Brug's head has been bandaged but he is still battered and bloody. Her regiment's forward operating base is set up. Dozens of chimeras, Leman Russ tanks of every type, and artillery pieces line up in neat rows. She treads beneath the monstrous maws of several super heavy tanks. Tsalie is nervous; the victory over the Orks was pyrrhic at best and at worst… Still she can't help but feel pride when she sees the banner of Venuvia, a rearing silver stag, edged in gold on a black field.

Ahead of her is the command tent but she needs to freshen up first. You couldn't make Brug smell any better unfortunately. Pitter, patter her heart starts to beat faster. Colonel Fleak despises those who are late, Tsalie has to hurry up and get ready to see her mother.

In the pre-dawn light, a black shape rides the wind. Closer, it takes the form of a Valkyrie gunship. The Inquisitorial "I" emblazoned in gold on the fuselage. Inquisitor Kremple fingers the trigger of his needle pistol deep in thought. Have the traitors found the objective yet? Picking himself up he moves around the sleeping forms of his Inquisitorial storm troopers, their hellguns stowed in racks.

Making his way to the cockpit he slides the door open. His pilot is peering into the auspex, silhouette back-lit by the green glow. "Anything Dolven?" The man doesn't take his eyes off the screen, "Nothing but bloody grass as tall as trees Inquisitor." Czevak pats him on the shoulder, "Find them quickly Meric." Before it's too late.


	6. Calm before the Storm

"If a man dies that another should live, that man's spirit shall eat at the Emperor's table."

-4th edition rulebook

 **Chapter 6**

Inquisitor Kremple eyes the auspex wearily, if they didn't find their objective soon, they would have to turn around. Fuel was running low. The first rays of sunlight were appearing on the horizon tinged with purple. It is eerily beautiful he muses, certainly more than the smog-choked skies of Eiphus IV. If this truly is the Holy Terra of old what other wonders might be in store?

Meric's voice wrenches him from his thoughts, "Inquisitor something just pinged on the auspex, I think its them." Kremple peers through the glass of the canopy, up ahead, a flash of light illuminates the long stalks of grass. He says, "Get into vox range, we need to be sure that they are loyal servants of the Throne. I'll wake the storm troopers." Striding into the cargo compartment, Kremple raps this expensive augmetic prosthetic loudly on the bulkhead. The sleeping forms stir, each is clad in bulky carapace armor and crimson fatigues.

Captain Cadaran slowly rises to his feet and retrieves his hellgun. He had been writing in his old leather bound notebook, thoughts, and observations, sometimes he sketched figures and landscapes with his battered ink stylus. It keeps him sane, awake. "Alright lads gear up its time." Inquisitor Kremple beckons to him with his real hand. Making his way through the jostling troopers, the captain stands to attention in front of him. Smiling mirthlessly, Inquisitor Kremple looks him up and down.

"Did you sleep Captain?" The dark shadows under his eyes tell the Inquisitor otherwise. Fiddling with one of the straps on his carapace armor, Cadaran says, "You know I don't sir ever since we got here. The dreams make me not want to go to sleep." Kremple nods slowly, "Take some stimms Captain they'll keep you awake, as for the dreams if they get worse you will tell me." Pale grey eyes stare coldly into his, "And if I decide that your mental problems are of a different variety, taint perhaps, then I will not hesitate…" He leaves the threat hanging in the air and walks away.

In the cockpit, Meric gestures toward the approaching vehicles, "Inquisitor I have made contact with the Adepta Sororitas and remnants of the Eiphsian PDF. They have agreed to clear a landing zone for us." Inquisitor Kremple's elbows rest on the pilot's seat, fingers interlacing. "Good let us be done quickly, I have a feeling this meeting will not go unnoticed for long."

The Inquisitor was right. Traitor forces had noticed their rendezvous already. Garbed in filthy robes, defaced PDF uniforms, and power armour the color of dried blood, the forces of the Archenemy were closing in.

* * *

"Is this the last of them guys?" The assault squad veteran nods and I dump the remainder of the Ork bodies into the trash bag. "Okay take the bag to the oil drum outside then you know what to do." The marine's features split into a cheeky grin and he holds up his hand flamer, "with pleasure." He and four others rise up on their jump packs towards the open slider door.

The next order of business is getting the space marines and the guard to work together. I guess having a common enemy doesn't do it for Commander Rerro he's too set in his ways. Time for a one on one with the big man himself, I spy him talking to a techmarine. Quickly scooping him up amid cries of alarm, I take him over to the couch and drop him on his butt. He shouts, "What is the meaning of this I have duties to attend to!"

I get eye level with him and say, "Let's get one thing straight here Commander I'm not your errand boy. You have to put away your high haughtiness and realize that you need allies. I know you follow the Codex Astartes to a tee but understand that under this roof it's my rules. Got it?" He looks more than a little grumpy at that as I continue, "Your prejudice towards the guard is not helping plus it makes you look like a little shit. Send one of your command squad to talk with them, preferably someone who has some tact unlike you."

At this point the little guy is practically shuddering with rage. I swear I can see the veins literally popping in his head. "How dare you speak to me in this way! I can…I will…" He manages to get his temper under control. "My choler will not get the better of me. Despite your insolence I admit there are many in our chapter including myself who look down on the other servants of the God Emperor even to the point of distrust. I know our situation is extraordinary and that to survive we must adapt. I will send someone to speak with the guard."

He steps onto my hand and I put him back where he was. I check on our beagle, Maxie, she's quivering in her bed near the kitchen. A laser or something had hit her and a burn mark was dark against her chest. Apothecary Caxus and Brothers Trelis and Aquikus are looking at her also. I lean in to catch what they're saying.

"It appears to be some kind of long eared xenos, possibly female, all attempts to administer to the creature's las burn have resulted in a heightened threat response including high pitched whining and bearing of teeth." The white armored Apothecary is dictating notes on his data slate, "Administering to its well being at this time will be… problematic." Trelis hefts his thunder hammer and says, "One good hit from this and it will be out in no time."

Aquikus snorts, "You'll get snatched up, look at that snout, it reminds me of those giant bloat flies back on Hemios II disgusting things they were." I cough politely, "Guys I have a better idea, its called peanut butter. Stay right here and don't do anything." I get a jar of Jiff from the kitchen, now I just need a cotton swab. The upstairs bathroom has some, so I run up the stairs to get some. I look at the clock on the wall; it's a little past six pm. As I come out of the bathroom, I hear footsteps coming creakily me. I quickly grab the swabs and go out into the hall. "You're up early." I freeze and turn, "Oh hi dad."

* * *

The Januvian camp is a bustle of activity. Enginseers huddle near vehicles making repairs; stretcher-bearers bring the last of the wounded into the medicae tents. Major Fleak goes to her portable hab unit, Brug trailing behind. Her maidservant Yenna is waiting for her at the door she makes the sign of the Aquila. "My lady you live. The Emperor's light shines upon you." Tsalie gives her a warm smile, "and to you Yenna, I will need help bathing with this arm. Also I need my dress uniform made ready and my sword cleaned and polished."

Yenna bows and says, "of course my lady ever at your service." The major turns to Brug and wrinkles her nose, "You smell like week old grox shit Brug, when I am done here we will go to the Orgryn quarters and get you cleaned up." Brug has a look of horror on his face and grumbles, "wez gonna get cold boss ladie, me like dis shirt." He glances down at the burnt and ripped mess he is wearing. Tsalie gently puts her hand on his arm and says, "the Emperor needs you to bathe Brug will you do this for Him?"

Brug's face takes on a look of childlike devotion and beams, "Okay do dis fer da Emprah." He gingerly sits on the carpet outside the hab, when the door closes he starts to pick his nose with gusto. Outside the perimeter of the Januvian compound Ancient Tarax strides forward, eyeing the automated sentry turrets and foot patrols. He is met at the gate by heavily armed guards. None of them can meet his gaze. "I am here to see your commanding officer take me to them immediately."


End file.
